


In the Blood

by DaronwyK



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Pureblood Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-05-24 08:44:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14951388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaronwyK/pseuds/DaronwyK
Summary: When his curse doesn't kill her, Antonin realizes a horrible truth, because only someone of his blood could have survived. The implications will mean that Hermione must face the fact that her entire life has been a lie. Now the daughter of one of the Dark Lord's most faithful, she must navigate a world she has been taught to hate and fear, and realize her childhood heroes are no shining bastions of goodness. Lost in a world of unending gray, who can she trust, and where will her path lead?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Based off my One-Shot, The Child.

o.o.O.o.o

**_Late Summer, 1980_ **

 

Gideon tucked the baby under his cloak, walking away from the raging inferno that had been the Dolohov home. Fabian had gone to report the incident to Dumbledore, but Gideon knew he had to take care of this little one. A twist of guilt in his gut nagged at him, but her parents had been dark and this sweet, innocent, little baby needed to grow up away from all of that. It would be better for her to grow up with parents that loved her, and to never know what kind of a monster her father was. In his mind, Gideon justified it as saving the baby girl from falling into darkness the way both her parents had.

 

He apparated to a park and sat down on the nearest bench, the child sleeping peacefully against his chest. At this time of the night the park was silent and still, only the musical cadence of crickets in the grass daring to disturb the quiet. A subtle movement of his wand and a fox patronus appeared, flicking its tail.

 

“Tell Benjy Fenwick I have the package in Hampstead Heath, the usual place,” he instructed it, and then the ghostly creature bounded off into the night.

 

His warm brown eyes looked down at the baby in his arms, and he was confident Benjy would know what to do with her. His mother was muggle-born and lived nearby. Hopefully, she’d know of a family they could place the little one with. Dolohov needed to believe that she had died in the fire with her mother, and to do that she needed to be placed well away from the magical world. The Dark Lord’s influence grew with every child born to his followers: removing even one of those children was an important step.

 

A short while later, a figure appeared with a crack and Gideon palmed his wand, being cautious.

 

“Gideon?” Benjy’s familiar voice called.

 

“Here.” He stood, careful not to jostle the little girl. “This is the baby.”

 

“Mum knows a family, they were looking into adoption…but a few well-placed memory charms and they’ll think that she’s theirs,” he said, carefully taking the infant from Gideon’s arms. “They’re good people, and they’ll take good care of the little one.”

 

“Your mum’s sure she’ll be okay there?” Gideon asked, a bit of worry nagging at him.

 

“Yeah, mum lives a few doors down and can keep an eye on her. They’re muggle tooth healers, and they’ll absolutely adore her. She’ll never want for anything, Gideon,” he promised, knowing Gideon had a soft spot for kids.

 

“What are their names?” he asked, knowing that it was likely better that he didn’t know, but it didn’t feel right sending the baby off without knowing who had custody of her. He and his brother were responsible for taking her away from her parents, even if they were Death Eater scum.

 

“Thomas and Jean Granger,” Benjy said, rocking the baby a little as she started to stir in his arms. “You did the right thing Gideon. She’s better off with them.”

 

“You’d better go, before she wakes up and starts crying for her mum,” Gideon said, and with a heavy heart he turned and apparated away. Fabian hadn’t turned a hair after killing Anna Dolohov, but Gideon had stood over her fallen body and couldn’t help but question what they’d all become, killing a young mother in her home, taking her child, and burning the house to the ground so that her husband would think they’d both perished. A little voice in the back of his head whispered that there would be a price to pay for their deeds this night, and he only hoped they survived whatever it was.

 

 


	2. Chapter One - Purple Fire

o.o.O.o.o

 

Purple fire. That was all Hermione could remember as she floated in that place between asleep and awake. Purple fire and pain, so much pain. The pain was gone now and there had been another strange sensation, like something restraining her had been lifted. It was an abstract feeling, but the more she mused on it, the more it felt true. The darkness that had been deeper than pitch at first was starting to lighten, bits of brightness peeking through. It was like swimming upwards through something thicker than water, something that stuck to her limbs like a persistent sludge. She fought it, trying to reach those points of light that she could see. A tiny part of her brain knowing without question that if she reached them, she could wake up.

 

Hermione’s eyes fluttered open, and she found herself lying on a massive bed, in room straight out of some strange Princess fairy tale. The room was easily three times the size of her bedroom at home, the walls were done in a kind of textured gold, with two massive windows that were letting light stream into the room. The floors were gleaming hardwood, nearly black and the furniture was all dark with gold accents. The bedding she was nestled in was soft gold and cream. She tried to sit up but she felt so weak.

 

“Hello?” she called out.

 

There was a little *pop* as a House Elf appeared. “Young Miss is awake! Keep still, yous is still healing! I’ll fetch Mistress.” The little thing was gone in an instant.

 

Hermione frowned, not understanding how she’d gotten here, or even where _here_ was. She didn’t have long to wonder as a familiar person walked through the door and her heart sank. Narcissa Malfoy.

 

“Good, you’re finally awake,” the woman said and came to sit on the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”

 

“Weak…what, where am I?” she asked. “The last thing I remember…”

 

“You were in the Department of Mysteries when you were stuck with a curse that should have killed you,” Narissa said and carefully helped her sit up. The elegant woman fluffed her pillows and made her surprisingly comfortable. “Topsy, bring some tea and broth for Miss Dolohov,” she called for the elf.

 

“What? Miss WHAT!” Her voice raised alarmingly.

 

“Now, I will answer all of your questions, but you will have the good manners to be quiet and listen while I speak,” the older witch said in a firm, no-nonsense tone. Only after Hermione pressed her lips together, did she continue. “You are currently in my summer home, in the South of France. You are not a prisoner here, but you were badly injured and have needed extensive healing. When Dolohov realized that his curse did not kill you, he knew there had to be a reason. He brought you to me, and I arranged for you to receive care. Between the healer’s efforts, and your magic’s own resistance to Dolohov’s curse…you recovered surprisingly quickly. You’ve been in a healing coma for nearly two weeks. The reason your magic was able to protect you is because you are not who you’ve been led to believe for your whole life.” Narcissa looked away for a moment. “You are not Hermione Granger, muggle-born witch and biological daughter of Thomas and Jean Granger. The truth is that you were given to them when you were just over a year old, by a friend of theirs named Maddy Fenwick. They were only told that your birth parents were dead, and that you needed a loving home. They had no idea that you’d been taken from your father, and your mother murdered.”

 

“That’s ridiculous…” Hermione interrupted.

 

“Do not interrupt.” Narcissa narrowed her eyes. “In the last year of the final wizarding war, there were many Auror raids that went….badly,” Narcissa said. “One such raid was made on the home of Anna and Antonin Dolohov. No one knows what really happened that night, but as far as Antonin could discover a fire broke out and both his wife and daughter were killed. The fire obliterated the bodies, so there was no way to know that his daughter was not in the house when it burned down. Her name was Alexandra Dolohov, born August 24th, 1979. Only a blood relative of Antonin’s could have survived the curse he threw at you. Even alone that would have proved your identity,” Narcissa said. “While you were unconscious, we brewed a lineage potion to verify further, and the results were incontestable.”

 

Hermione shook her head. “No…” She felt a wave of nausea hit her hard and the room swam a little. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t.

 

“I understand this is a shock, but it is true. I’ll leave you to have something to eat and rest. Anything you require Topsy can get for you,” she said and stood.

 

“I want to see Professor Snape,” Hermione said quietly, her mind racing. If he confirmed this ludicrous story…then maybe then she’d believe it. Until then, it was just some elaborate lie cooked up by the Death Eaters to hurt Harry.

 

“I’ll send for Severus, I’m sure he’ll come as soon as he can.” The older woman smiled slightly and left the room, just as her light meal appeared.

 

“Does young Miss want anything to read?” The elf asked. “Master Draco mentioned yous likes books.”

 

“I…that would be nice, thank you,” she said, trying not to dwell on the utterly surreal world she’d woken to. While she started on the soup and buttered rolls, a small stack of books appeared on the bed beside her. The tray disappeared as soon as she was finished, and Hermione decided to see if she could make it to the bathroom she could see across the room.

 

Hermione gathered her strength and swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood carefully. The room spun a little, but she waited for the sensation to pass before starting to walk across the room. It was maybe a span of fifteen feet, but it felt like fifteen miles. She was feeling very lightheaded by the time she got to the bathroom door and went in, locking it behind her. She turned to look at herself in the mirror and she screamed, eyes wide as she looked at the stranger staring back at her.

 

The bathroom door was thrown open by Narcissa a few moments later and she immediately saw the problem. “You shouldn’t be out of bed,” she said and flicked her wand at the mirror darkening it. “I wanted to prepare you before you saw that.”

 

“What did you do to me?” she whispered, staring at the dark mirror.

 

“The healers found an old glamour woven into your core when they were repairing the damage to your body. They had to remove it in order to heal you properly. This is how you were always meant to look,” Narcissa said softly. “I did not intend for you to find out like this.”

 

“Let me see. I need to see,” Hermione demanded, and when the mirror cleared again she stepped forward. Her hair was the most dramatic change, her wild curls had been tamed down to silky waves, and the colour was much darker, almost black with a touch of red at the base. She stepped closer to the mirror, and tried to analyse the differences in her actual face. Her eyes were still brown, but they seemed larger, and her eyelashes were dramatically thicker. Her face was somewhat more heart-shaped now, her lips were fuller, and her skin much paler. As the panic receded a little, she realized that she was still herself just slightly different.   

 

“If you want your curls back, there are some simple charms I can teach you,” Narcissa said as she watched the younger witch.

 

Hermione nodded. “I’d like that,” she said quietly. “I’m alright now, thank you for checking on me.” She looked over at the other witch.

 

“If you need any help, just call for Tupsy,” Narcissa said and closed the door to the bathroom, giving her some privacy.

 

Hermione closed her eyes and tried to get her head together. She couldn’t afford to be falling apart in front of these people, they were the enemy and they had kidnapped her while she was injured and unconscious. She’d play along until Professor Snape got here and could tell her what was going on. She didn’t even know if Harry was alright, if they’d kept the prophecy away from Voldemort. Nothing.

 

After going to the bathroom, washing her new face, and brushing her teeth, she felt much more like herself. It didn’t matter what they’d done to her; she was still Hermione Granger and she’d find a way out of this mess.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Severus entered the sitting room and found Narcissa waiting for him. He could easily see how stressed his friend’s wife was, and he was not at a loss to figure out why. This was a mess of epic proportions. His least favourite student was Dolohov’s supposedly dead daughter. Antonin was inconsolable with the knowledge that he had very nearly murdered his own flesh and blood; a child he had lost and mourned some fifteen years ago. The Order was scrambling, trying to both keep Harry Potter out of the media and trying to determine what had happened to Miss Granger.

 

After Dolohov had disapparated with Miss Granger, Lucius had snagged the prophecy and disappeared before the rest of the Order could arrive. There had been a short messy battle and they’d captured the Lestranges, but the Ministry was still reluctant to admit that they’d been wrong. Everything was in shambles.

 

“How is she?” he asked.

 

“Pretending to be better than she is,” Narcissa said with a sigh. “Unsurprising, but given that the girl is a Gryffindor I expected some more overt resistance.”

 

“She’s too clever for that.” Severus said. “I’ll speak with her and see if I can’t convince her of the truth. While I may not be her favourite Professor, she at least seems to grant a certain respect to all of her teachers.” He sighed.

 

“She’s upstairs, in the same room we put her in after she was healed,” Narcissa said.

 

Severus nodded and headed up to see her, not wanting to waste time. He knocked at the door and then entered. The change in her appearance, while not large, made the girl much more striking and he could easily see the resemblance to her mother, Anna Dolohov nee Fawley. She was sitting in the window seat, reading. She closed the book and stood, walking over with a hopeful expression. He was loathe to crush it, necessary as that was going to be.

 

“Professor, you have to get me out of here,” she pleaded with him.

 

“Miss Granger, please come and sit down.” He gestured her over to the chairs that made up a little sitting area. “I understand you must be frightened and confused, so I promise to answer all of your question honestly.”

 

“Am I really his daughter?” she asked, looking into his eyes, desperate for him to say no.

 

“I’m sorry to say that you are. I brewed the lineage potion myself and administered it. You are the daughter of Antonin and Anna Dolohov,” he said simply.

 

“I wanted it to be a lie,” she whispered. “That monster is my father?” Tears welled up in her eyes, slipping down her cheeks.

 

Severus was simply quiet while the girl cried, and he offered her a handkerchief. “If you were not his daughter, you would be dead right now. Your shared blood was the only thing that protected you from his curse,” he said once she seemed to have calmed down.

 

“Is Harry ok? And Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Luna?” she asked.

 

“They’re all fine. Lupin and Black were injured during the rescue, but everyone made it out alive. Miss Weasley badly broke her ankle, and Mr. Weasley suffered some strange burns, but they are both long since healed.” At least he was able to give her some good news. “Everyone is very worried about you, but the Headmaster hasn’t shared with them the reason you were taken. He has confirmed it with the senior order members.”

 

“He knew?” She looked at him, feeling a twisting stab of betrayal.

 

“He did, and so did Molly. Her brothers were the ones that took you that night, and with the help of Benjy Fenwick’s mother hid you in the muggle world. The Headmaster had to have known, only powerful magic could have altered the Hogwarts registrar to hide your true name. I am sorry, but the truth is not always pleasant.” He said quietly.

 

“What about my parents? They have to be worried sick.” She said.

 

“Antonin has placed them in hiding, and they were told that you were injured, but are safe and recovering. Albus had intended to send Moody and Shackelbolt to oblivate them, but Antonin got to them first. He was adamant that you should have access to the people that raised you,” he said. “They are perfectly safe.” Severus had honestly been shocked at the man’s move in that regard but knew it would help him in the long run.

 

Hermione let out a breath. “What happens to me now?”

 

“Until your seventeenth birthday in September, you will have to go to your closest wizarding relations. Your mother’s sister was married to Darius Nott and while your Aunt died some years ago, that makes Theo your first cousin. When the glamour was broken, all the charms hiding your existence were also destroyed. This had been all over the Prophet, and they’ve been keeping the paper away from Potter to prevent him from finding out,” Severus said. “What you choose to do after you turn seventeen is of course your decision…but I would say that your father wishes very much to see you. This situation has hit him hard. While he is a Death Eater, before Azkaban he was an intelligent, powerful wizard who held a dual Mastery in Charms and Ancient Runes. He could also tell you a great deal about your mother, who was an incredible witch in her own right. Consider getting to know him, and the family history that has been hidden from you.”

 

Hermione nodded. “I’ll think about it,” she replied quietly. “Can you get a letter to Harry for me?”

 

“I can,” Severus agreed, knowing that the Dark Lord would approve of her shaking Potter’s confidence in the Headmaster even more. The revelations about Miss Granger, well…Miss Dolohov he supposed, had made him question his current loyalties. “I know that Narcissa has put some clothing in the wardrobe for you. Why don’t you come downstairs and join us for dinner tonight? Take an hour or so and write your letter, and when I leave tonight I will take it with me and get it to Mr. Potter.”

 

“Who else will be at dinner?” she asked.

“Come down, and you’ll find out,” Severus said. “You can’t hide away forever and you need to face this. No one in this house will hurt you, or wishes you harm. A lot has changed for you and you need to start understanding what those changes mean.”

 

Hermione bit her bottom lip and she nodded. “Did you know my mother?” she asked.

 

“She was five years ahead of me and a Ravenclaw, but yes I knew Anna Fawley. She was impossible to not know.” He allowed himself a small smile. “She was a Prefect, and I think you inherited your love of rules from her. She was a terror on patrols, at least for those caught breaking said rules. She looked out for the younger students, regardless of their house.” He told her what he could remember.

 

“Ravenclaw, she wasn’t a Slytherin?” She frowned.

 

“No. Not all of the Dark Lords followers were and before you can ask, no Anna was not a Death Eater…but she was no lover of the Headmaster either,” Severus said.

 

“None of this makes any sense,” she whispered.

 

“I know, and it will take time to absorb everything. Start with writing your letter, and getting ready for dinner. We can speak more once you come downstairs; no more hiding in here like some homesick Hufflepuff.” He stood and gave her a firm look. “I’ll expect you downstairs no later than an hour from now, Miss Dolohov.” He saw her jump to argue and he held up a hand. “That is your name, and you should get used to hearing it now. Whether you choose to be known as Hermione or Alexandra is something you can decide, but you are a Dolohov. Adjust now, so that it will not make you cringe later when you hear it in public.”

 

“Yes, Sir,” she said stiffly.

 

He turned on his heel and left her room, hoping that he’d pricked her pride enough to get her to stop wallowing and face this head on.


	3. Facing Facts

o.o.O.o.o

 

Hermione wrote her letter first and then explored the wardrobe. Much to her disgust, she found absolutely no jeans or pants of any description. There were dresses, skirts, blouses, robes, and the requisite underthings in the chest of drawers. Sighing in resignation, she chose a simple grey dress and matching summer weight robes to get changed into. After days of lounging in pajamas and sulking up in her room, Hermione decided that a shower was probably a good idea. Professor Snape wasn’t wrong, she was hiding. She didn’t want to go downstairs because it was easier to stay in this room and pretend she was a prisoner, than face the reality that her entire existence was a lie. Even worse was the knowledge that her ‘enemies’ weren’t really enemies now.

 

Hermione pulled her wet hair back into a loose bun and put on the new clothes. They felt foreign on her, but she supposed she’d just have to get used to it. She couldn’t imagine her blood-purist, bigot father allowing her to wear jeans and jumpers. A harsh movement of her head shook away that line of thinking. It didn’t matter what he was, she was still *her*. She was still Hermione, brightest witch of her age, and best friend to Harry Potter…or at least she hoped so.

 

Downstairs she could hear voices, as she reached the bottom landing. It was simple enough to follow the sound to a comfortable looking sitting room. Sitting there was Narcissa, Lucius, and Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott, an older man she didn’t recognize, and Professor Snape. She paused in the doorway, wanting nothing more than to run away when Lucius Malfoy noticed her.

 

“Ah Miss Dolohov, please come and join us,” he said graciously, grey eyes watching her intently. “How nice to see you up and about.”

 

Hermione just nodded and headed over to sit down beside Professor Snape, her stomach in knots.

 

“Hermione, let me introduce you to your uncle, Lord Darius Nott,” Narcissa said. “Darius, this is your niece, Miss Dolohov.”

 

The older wizard nodded politely. He looked to be somewhat older than Lucius Malfoy, his hair was dark with bits of grey at his temples. He had warm blue eyes however, and gave her a small smile. “It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Dolohov. If you will allow me to say, you look very much like your mother.”

 

“Thank you,” Hermione replied automatically. “Please call me Hermione,” she said, still feeling uneasy hearing that name associated with herself.

 

“Then call me Uncle Darius, I insist,” the older wizard said kindly. “Once you are more fully recovered, Theodore and I would very much like for you to come and stay with us for the rest of the summer. You should be with family, after all.”

 

“I’d like that, thank you.” She was aware that she didn’t honestly have much of a choice, but she appreciated that he was at least trying to pretend that she did. She supposed the illusion of choice was better than being dragged off kicking and screaming.

 

“Excellent.” He said.

 

“Would you like some tea, dear?” Narcissa asked and at Hermione’s nod, she fixed her a cup. “We were just talking about your heavy academic schedule, but I wasn’t aware of what you’d decided to take for your Newts.”

 

“I had asked to continue all of my classes, but Professor McGonagall felt that it would be far too demanding.” Hermione said, feeling like she’d fallen down some strange cosmic rabbit hole where she was discussing her school schedule with a bunch of Death Eaters. “I decided to take Potions, Transfigurations, Charms, Defence, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Herbology.”

 

“Ambitious undertaking, but complimentary fields of study for many possible masteries and careers. I assume you were wanting to keep your options open?” Lord Nott asked.

 

“I had wanted to work for the Ministry, but I’m not so certain now.” She sipped her tea, admitting to more than a few doubts about the actual good she’d be able to accomplish inside the Ministry. Especially when it was clearly so completely rampant with corruption.  

 

“May I ask why?” He pressed.

 

“Last year I got to see the corruption at play within even the highest offices, so I question whether it’s worth my time,” she said firmly. “Petty politics ruined my Owl year, and I find that completely unforgiveable. That woman belongs in Azkaban for what she did.” Her eyes flashed angrily.

 

“Oh?” Darius looked over at his son and Draco.

 

“She was using a blood quill on students, amongst other things,” Draco said quietly.

 

“She what?” Lucius Malfoy’s voice practically dripped venom, and he fixed his son with a hard look. It was obviously the first he had heard of it.

 

“Not on any of us; she knew better…she just used it on…” Draco trailed off, shooting a sideways look at Hermione and paling a little.

 

“On mudbloods and people who didn’t matter; people like me,” Hermione said bitterly, sitting her tea cup down. “Excuse me,” she bit out and left the room. She heard footsteps following, but she didn’t slow down. She had no idea where she was going, she just needed *out* of here. She saw a set of French doors and opened them, escaping out into a lavish garden.

 

“Hermione!” A voice called, and moments later a hand closed around her upper arm and gently turned her around. “Who used a blood quill on you?” The concerned eyes of Darius Nott fixed on her.

 

“Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge,” Hermione said quietly. “She made me write ‘I will respect my betters’.” Her tone dripped with disgust. “I hope the Centaurs killed her.” She hated herself for saying it, but it was true. She wanted that woman to pay for everything she’d done to her, Harry, and all the others. Merlin, she loathed that evil, soulless, bitch.

 

“No one will ever lay a hand on you like that again. Do you understand me, Hermione?” He spoke with quiet conviction. He had a responsibility for this girl, and while her father was unable to act openly…as her Aunt’s husband he could.

 

“Only because I’m a Dolohov now. It didn’t matter to anyone when I was just ‘Hermione Granger’.” She hated that. “It shouldn’t matter what my last name is.”

 

“Perhaps not, but being Hermione Dolohov means that you have connections that can seek retribution for you.” Darius guided her over to sit down on a stone bench. “Your mother and aunt were just as passionate about life; they hated injustice and inequality. You get that from them.” He patted her hand. “As much prejudice as you faced for being Muggle-born, you will find you face just as much for being the daughter of a Death Eater. It’s just as cruel and unfair, but you’ll have to face it all the same. No matter who you are, or what your blood status is…there are always people that will find something to hate you for. Don’t let it touch you, because none of them matter. Ultimately, all that matters is family, and what’s in your heart.”

 

Hermione looked at him, still not entirely sure what to think of him, but it was good advice. “And if my heart tells me that your Dark Lord is wrong?”

 

A bit of calculation stole into his eyes. “Then listen to it, but don’t let it be led astray before you understand both sides of the story. Until now, you’ve only heard Albus Dumbledore’s rhetoric. Let yourself see the other side of the argument, and then make your choice. Whatever that choice is, I will respect it…if you give yourself time to truly understand.” Darius Nott clearly was a true believer, but he was being strangely reasonable. “Theo tells me you’re very smart, one of the cleverest girls in school…use that clever brain and look at all the facts, not just the ones you like.”

 

Hermione nodded quietly. “I’m sorry I ran out. I just…” Regardless of who these people were, she had been very rude; her parents had raised her better than that. Tears sprung to her eyes at the thought of her parents, and she prayed they were really all right.

 

“No apology needed. I’d have been shocked if you didn’t have an outburst or two. Your father has quite the temper and so did your mother, so you come by it honestly.” He chuckled a little. “Just take a few minutes to relax and when dinner is ready I’ll send Theo out to collect you. Alright?”

 

Hermione nodded. “That sounds good.” She managed to give him a small smile.

 

“It’s a difficult situation, you just take the time you need.” He stood and gave her a small nod before heading back into the house and leaving her alone in the beautiful garden.

 

Hermione knew that Theo’s father was a Death Eater, but the things he’d said and the way he seemed to genuinely care, didn’t fit with what she’d been told about them.  Maybe it was just an act because of who she was, or maybe he was actually a decent person. She just didn’t know and the uncertainty was very uncomfortable. She was still mulling it over when Theo came out and just sat quietly beside her on the bench.

 

“Ok there, Granger?” he asked with a little smirk.

 

“Not really.” She admitted with a sigh.

 

“Not really ok, or not really a Granger?” He teased.

 

“Both.” She answered and gave him a mild glare. This wasn’t really a laughing matter to her.  

 

“It could be worse, you know? You could have been a Malfoy.” He winked at her.

 

Hermione couldn’t help it, she started laughing and couldn’t quite stop. She imagined how much she’d have freaked out if she’d woken up with platinum blonde hair and had to call Lucius Malfoy ‘daddy’. “Oh Merlin, don’t!” She shook her head. “I did not need that mental image, thank you very much.”

 

Theo chuckled. “I thought that might help,” he said and fell quiet again for a moment. He wasn’t one to be chatty, and he knew she wasn’t the kind of girl that liked mindless blather either. They’d worked together a few times in Arithmancy, and he knew she preferred to just get down to business most of the time. “You’ll like it at Oxton. That’s where our estate is, just off Sherwood Forest. The best part is, that there’s a library that you’ll probably hibernate in until September.”

 

She smiled a bit. “Thanks…do you mind if I call you Theo?”

 

“Only if I can call you Hermione,” he said in turn.

 

“Fair enough.” She nodded in agreement. “Thanks, for being decent about this.”

 

“You’re my cousin, it’s kind of my job to help you figure all this shit out.” He shrugged a bit, brushing off the praise. “Look, I know Draco was an ass, but it was mostly because you were a Gryffindor and Potter’s best mate. And you really hurt his feelings with what you said in second year, you know?” he said quietly.

 

“About what?” She frowned, unable to think of anything she could have done to wound the ferret’s feelings. If such a thing even existed.  

 

“His father gave those Nimbus 2001’s to the team after Draco qualified as Seeker. Nearly a whole week after the tryouts, and no one knew anything about it before hand,” Theo said simply, and when he saw the understanding blossom on her face he nodded. “That was the first time he called you a mudblood, right?”

 

“Because I’d made it personal.” She said quietly, remembering the exchange and the look of pure hate in his eyes when she’d accused him of buying his way onto the team. In light of that, it would have been like someone accusing her of getting good marks just because the teachers liked her.

 

“Yeah. He really is a good Seeker, Potter’s just a bit better.” He shrugged. “Just try and let this be a fresh start for you two. He’s pretty nervous you’ll bust his balls forever, and that your father might kill him or something.” He explained, looking a bit embarrassed about trying to talk to her about Malfoy.  

 

“Why would he be afraid my father kill him?” She gave him a dubious look.

 

“Cause your father’s a scary son of a bitch.” Theo chuckled. “Come on, you have to be hungry.” He stood and offered her a hand.

 

Hermione nodded, and took his hand. “I am hungry.” She admitted and stood. She gave him another dubious look as he tucked her hand into his arm and walked with her into the house.

 

“Get used to it,” Theo simply said, and together they joined everyone else in the dining room. He got her chair for her, and seemed amused at her exasperated look.

 

Dinner was actually fairly relaxed, the adults talked about business and politics while Draco and Theo were prattling on about Quidditch. She didn’t have much to say, and no one seemed to want to push her too much after finally getting her back into the same room with them. It was nearly surreal just how normal they all were.

 

Professor Snape finally stood after dessert had finished. “I regret but I must take my leave. Perhaps you’d care to walk with me to the floo?” he asked Hermione.

 

She nodded and stood, leaving the dining room with him. She handed him the letter once they were in the hallway. “This is for Harry.”

 

“I will give it to Potter as soon as I see him, you understand he may not reply,” Severus warned her carefully, trying to prepare her for the worst.

 

“I know,” Hermione said quietly. “But I have to try.” Harry was her best friend, and if he couldn’t see past her new name…then at least it wouldn’t be because she hadn’t tried to reach out.

 

“I understand, better than you probably know.” He hoped that Lily’s son would be somewhat more willing to look past the darkness, but he didn’t want to bet on it. “Give some thought to at least meeting with your father, and continue to rest and recover.”

 

“I will Professor,” she said, not wanting him to go, but knowing he had to.

 

“Find that foolish Gryffindor bravery of yours and just embrace what’s in front of you. It can’t be harder than a bunch of school children thinking they could take on seasoned Death Eaters.” He gave her a look.

 

She smiled then.  “Yes sir.”

 

“Go and get some rest, you’ve had a trying day.” He turned and left through the floo.


	4. Answers, but more Questions

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Severus made his way into Grimmauld Place, suppressing a shudder at the atmosphere of the mouldering old house. He swung by the sitting room and spotted Potter sitting there, staring into the fireplace. He didn’t see anyone else around. “Potter,” he called the boy’s name.

 

Green eyes swung around to look at him. “Is there any news about Hermione?” he asked.

 

“Yes, I was able to see her, and she sent a letter for you. Do not read it where anyone might see and hide it afterwards. The Headmaster would not want you to have it.” He said carefully, holding his eyes. “If you have questions after, I will try to answer them,” he said simply and left the boy, heading into the meeting. He nodded to Molly and took his usual place at the back of the room.

 

“Ah Severus, any word about Miss Granger?” Albus asked.

 

“It’s Miss Dolohov now, isn’t it?” Severus said drily, enjoying the flinch from Albus and Molly. “I’ve been to see her. She is healthy and recovered from her injuries, but she is frightened and confused to learn that she is not who she thought she was. Someone placed an elaborate glamour on her as an infant, and to repair the damage done to her, they had to remove it. She looks very much like her mother now, and that has been another difficult adjustment for her.”  

 

“Is there no way you could remove her, and bring her here to safety, Severus?” Albus asked.

 

“No, and to be perfectly frank, she’s in no danger.” He said, taking in the shocked looks around the room. “Given who she really is, they’ll protect her fiercely. I highly doubt they’ll risk taking her within a hundred yards of any of you before September to give her time to accept her new identity and learn the truth of her mother’s murder,” he said quietly.

 

“Murder! It was a fair duel!” Molly shouted.

 

“Your brothers killed a young mother in front of her infant daughter…it wasn’t a duel, it was an execution. Not the finest moment for the Order,” Severus responded hotly, eyes glittering dangerously.

 

“That’s neither here nor there,” Moody interrupted. “The fact is, the girl can’t be trusted any longer. We have to assume that she’ll turn on us after a summer with those snakes. Best to prepare the boys for that, and make sure they tell her nothing.”

 

Severus just sneered, but knew better than to argue with any of them. To them the girl was tainted, an easy write-off, just as he had been. He listened as the conversation turned to the inaction of the Ministry, and their continued denial over the Dark Lord’s return. Severus knew Albus had been counting on drawing him out during the battle at the Ministry, but it had not gone to plan. Albus’ position as Headmaster was now very precarious.

 

“What news from Voldemort, Severus?” Albus asked.

 

“He’s ordered us all to lie low, for the time being. He won’t risk confirming his return while things are on the fence.” Severus said. “I will of course keep my ears open, but for now he seems content to play a long game.”

 

Albus looked troubled and nodded. “Very well, same time next week everyone.” He dismissed them. “Severus, a moment please.” He said, asking him to remain. “You’ve spoken with Miss Granger, what is your read on her? Do you really believe she’d turn to their side?”

 

“No. She cares too much for the Potter boy to ever wish him harm, but after learning about your deception…I do not see her aiding the Order per se,” He admitted.

 

“You believe she will remain neutral then?” He seemed to relax somewhat.

 

“Yes, or aide Potter independently of the Order.” He said, occluding heavily as he lied through his teeth. The girl was caught in the middle, and he would not allow the Headmaster to make her a target.

 

He nodded. “It is unfortunate, but perhaps in time she can be brought to understand why we had to hide her in the muggle world.”

 

Severus just nodded, as if he understood. “I will keep as close an eye to her as I can.”

 

“Good…good. That’s all then Severus.”

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

That night, while Ron snored loudly in the bed beside him, Harry finally opened Hermione’s letter. He had been dying to read it earlier, but he couldn’t shake Ron and Ginny.

 

_Harry,_

_Professor Snape told me that everyone else managed to get out of the DoM with only minor injuries, so I hope that he was being honest. When I woke up, I was afraid you’d all been killed and now…I worry that you’ll hate me. I don’t know what, if anything, Headmaster Dumbledore has told you, but I’m not who I’ve always thought I am. I’m not a Granger, or even a Muggle-born at all. I’m a pure-blood witch and my real name is apparently Alexandra Dolohov. My mother was killed in an Auror Raid gone bad, and Mrs. Weasley’s brothers took me from the House and gave me to a muggle family to raise. They let my father believe I was dead, killed in the fire that consumed the house._

_So the Headmaster and Mrs. Weasley knew all along who I was, and they kept it from me. I honestly don’t know what to think or feel about any of this. The fact that I’m Dolohov’s daughter is the only reason I survived his curse, otherwise I’d be dead. Any of us could have died that night, because the Headmaster kept things from you and from all of us. Please, even if you never trust me again, promise me that you’ll be careful and start to think about what he tells you. You’re my best friend and I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you._

_I’ll be staying with my cousin, Theo, for the rest of the summer and I don’t know if I’ll be able to get a letter to you again. If I don’t, just remember that I’m still me and still your friend. I’ll see you on the Hogwarts express. Meet me in the compartment at the very back of the train, and I’ll try and explain everything else._

_Yours,_

_Hermione._

He folded the letter back up and felt a familiar rush of anger. The Headmaster had PROMISED that he’d told him everything that night, that there were no more secrets. And here in his hand was proof that he’d lied to him. Again. Sirius and Remus had nearly been killed, Hermione had nearly been killed, and all because the Headmaster loved his secrets. He was done listening to him, done being his faithful pawn.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

The next morning Hermione woke up, had a shower, and got dressed. Professor Snape had been right, hiding was the coward’s way out. She couldn’t hide from the truth, not when it was written all over her face. Once she was dressed, she headed downstairs still feeling a bit weaker than normal but at least there was no pain. Her souvenir from her father nearly killing her was a vibrant purple streak across her torso. It wasn’t a scar you could feel, more like a piece of that purple fire forever caught just under her skin, as much a part of her as the man’s blood seemed to be.

 

She headed to the room where everyone had eaten dinner and saw Lucius Malfoy sitting in there reading the paper and sipping coffee. There was no one else there. He picked that moment to spot her and nodded elegantly.

 

“Good morning, seems that everyone else is enjoying a bit of a lie in,” Lucius said. “Please, sit and have some breakfast. You must be hungry.”

 

“Did my uncle and Theo leave after dinner?” she asked and sat down across the table from Draco’s father. She smiled as fruit, scrambled eggs and toast appeared on her plate. She poured herself some orange juice from the pitcher, trying to focus on the little things.  

 

“Yes, it was quite late when they left,” he explained. “They’ll return likely at the end of the week to collect you. Things should have settled enough back in Britain by then.”

 

“How do you mean?” She resisted the urge to frown, trying to figure out why it was so important that she be kept out of the country.

 

“Your father is a wanted criminal. Naturally, the Aurors were searching quite diligently for you after the events in the Department of Mysteries. We needed time for the furor to die down and to make certain that there was a suitable story in place. You were dropped in the care of your Uncle, and healers have been tending to you non-stop since. You will make a few public appearances in August, and then return to school as expected in September. Your uncle gave a statement to the Aurors yesterday morning, and they seem to have given up on speaking to you for the moment. We will wait another week to be certain,” Lucius said.

 

Hermione just nodded, again realizing this wasn’t actually a discussion…she was being told what would happen. It seemed to be a trend. “Who has my wand?” she asked after a moment.

 

“Narcissa has it, but I’m sure she’ll be happy to return it to you now that you’re up and about,” Lucius said, flipping a page of the paper.

 

Hermione nodded and sipped her juice, looking up as Draco stumbled in…looking mostly still asleep.

 

“Morning…” he muttered and sat down.

 

“Morning.” Hermione replied automatically. “Is there a reading room here, Mr. Malfoy?” She made herself be polite, as much as it killed her. Merlin she wanted to Hex him, smug superior bastard that he was.

 

“There is, after you’ve finished eating I can show you where it is,” Lucius said. “Draco, do sit up straight.” He fixed hard eyes on his son, who instantly straightened.

 

“Yes, father,” He said, pouring himself some juice. “Did you sleep well?” he asked Hermione, clearly struggling with what to call her.

 

Hermione nodded. “I did. Listen Malfoy, this is awkward enough…you can call me Hermione or Dolohov I guess,” she said and saw a bit of relief cross his face.

 

“You’ll call her Hermione, or _Miss_ Dolohov. She’s not a member of your Quidditch team, Draco,” Lucius interjected from behind his newspaper.

 

Draco’s cheeks coloured a little. “Yes, Father.”

 

Hermione just laughed a little, and once Lucius finished his paper, folding it and laying it aside, she put her utensils down.

 

“I’ll show you to the reading room. Draco, tell your mother that her post arrived and is by her tea.” Lucius said. “Miss Dolohov, this way,” he said solicitously.

 

Hermione stood, nodding to Draco who was sleepily putting jam on his toast, and she followed Lucius out of the dining room and down the hall.

 

“You’re taking this better than I imagined you would.” Lucius remarked as they walked.

 

“I guess I just don’t see the point in throwing fits and tantrums when it won’t change the facts,” she said quietly. “Professor Snape said my…father,” she hesitated over the word, “isn’t taking it well. Is that true?”

 

“The daughter he imagined dead for a decade and a half, was nearly killed by his own wand…how well do you imagine he could be taking it?” Lucius looked down at her for a long moment and then turned down another hall, and opened a set of double doors. “Your father is many things, but he is still your father. I’ve never seen a happier wizard than he was the day your mother had you. Some men would have lamented their firstborn being female, but your father was over the moon about his little Princess.”

 

Hermione felt a twist of guilt in her gut. “Could you…tell me a little about him?”

 

Lucius nodded and entered the room with her, sitting down in one of the arm chairs. “He did not attend Hogwarts, he was a Durmstrang graduate, but his father had many business interests here in Britain so after graduation he came here. He was older than I was, but because our father were…well-acquainted he tolerated me and my friends. He met your mother at her sister’s wedding to Darius and he fell utterly in love. They were engaged by the end of that summer, though he had to wait for her to finish her Newt Year before they married. He supported her in pursuing her Charms Mastery, where many wizards would not, and from what I knew…they were very happy,” Lucius said.

 

Hermione nodded. “Where did they live?” She asked.

 

“Your grandfather had an old Tudor estate in Norfolk, but your parents had a little place in the country in Surrey.” Lucius said, still studying her speculatively.

 

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she asked.

 

“I’m just curious how this revelation will shift things. I like to see all the angles and you’ve quite neatly disrupted things. It will be intriguing to see where you fit in the new order,” he said simply. In truth Lucius was wondering what exactly his Lord planned to do with the girl. His orders on the matter had been clear, she was to be protected and all prior transgressions were to be forgiven. She’d been deceived and manipulated after all. It was clear the Dark Lord had plans for the young witch, he was curious to see what they were.

 

“Why do you hate muggle-borns?” She asked then, quite abruptly.  

 

“I agreed to answer questions about your father, not myself. I’ve been generous enough to answer one personal question this morning, you’ll find I do not so readily share my thoughts with relative strangers, Miss Dolohov.”

 

“Then why does my father hate muggle-borns?” She raised her eyebrows.

 

“You’ll need to ask him that.” Lucius chuckled. “Though I might broach the topic somewhat more delicately than you are doing now.” He stood. “The books on the far bookcase are warded, and not for your perusal, but anything else in here you are free to read. Ultimately, the easiest way to learn about your father will be to meet him. I seem to remember you, at the tender age of twelve, feeling no fear at all in correcting me. I’d suggest summoning some of that bravado.” He left her to read, still quite unsure how to categorize the girl. She was playing things very close to the vest, unusual for a Gryffindor. He wondered what other surprises she’d have for them.  


	5. New Realities

o.o.O.o.o

Darius looked at the wreak that was his brother in law, sitting slumped in the leather arm chair in his study. He brought the man a tumbler of fire-whiskey and handed it to him, pausing a moment to squeeze his shoulder in solidarity. He hadn't seen him like this since the night Anna had died. There were dark bruises under his eyes, and he hadn't shaved in days.

 

"You've seen her?" Antonin asked.

 

"Yes, last night at Narcissa's summer house." Darius sat down across from him.

 

"How is she?" He lifted his troubled grey eyes up to meet his brother-in-law's.

 

"She's doing well and seems to be mostly healed from her injuries," he said. "She's understandably confused and upset about the situation, but I believe she will come around."

 

"I want to see her. I should be there," he growled angrily, his expression darkening.

 

"The Dark Lord has forbidden it, until she's ready to see you." Darius had been surprised when their Lord had issued the edict to them all. He very rarely interfered in family matters, but he supposed that the girl's connection to Harry Potter was a complicating factor.

 

"And what if she never is?" Antonin said quietly. "I nearly killed her, Darius. My own Alexa…nearly dead at my own hand." He felt a wave of nausea hit him and he closed her eyes. He could see it in his mind every night, the instant the curse struck her and tossed her backwards, like a marionette whose strings had been cut. He'd felt a familiar tug of magic in that moment, and he'd *known*. He raced to her side and touched her throat, feeling her pulse fluttering weakly under his fingertips. He had gathered her into his arms and disapparated, going to his Lord and begging for help, telling him what he'd discovered.

 

"She's alive Antonin and seems recovered. She did not die and you couldn't have known who she was. Narcissa tells me she'd been disguised with a glamour, with it gone she looks so much like Anna did at that age, though she has your temper." Darius chuckled. "And from what you told me of that night, she has your skill as well. She'd need it to duel you and live to tell the tale."

 

Antonin scrubbed a hand over his face. "There is nothing I can say to beg her forgiveness for that night, or for failing to find her. I should have looked harder, I should never have given up on her." He let his eyes drift to the fire.

 

"They hid her well, both physically and magically. Even if you had looked, it's unlikely you'd have discovered her. You said yourself that the muggles were good to her, good enough that you've spared them." Darius had been surprised by that move, but he supposed he understood it. Their Lord had left the fate of the muggles to Antonin's discretion.

 

"Her whole world has been destroyed, Darius. if I ever want her to see me as her father, I couldn't have their blood on my hands. For her sake they live, and only her sake." Antonin had found them surprisingly reasonable and intelligent for muggles. He'd explained the truth to them, and they had seemed to comprehend the gravity of the situation. They had requested the chance to help her accept Antonin as part of her life, he knew it was likely he'd need their aid.

 

Darius nodded. "We are all working to convince her to see you, but remember she's only been awake for a few days now. The battle and her injuries are all very fresh in her mind. I believe the Dark Lord is wise in allowing her to choose when to face you."

 

"He has some plan for her and that frightens me. I would lay down my life for him if he commanded it, but I do not like the thought of him putting her in harm's way." He stood and paced a little. He knew that he owed her life to the Dark Lord, only his efforts combined with Severus' had been able to reverse the damage his curse had done. The two of them had worked for nearly ten hours without pause to stabilize her, and repair the damage to her organs and magic. The Dark Lord had not allowed him to see her afterwards, but ordered him away until such time as she was prepared to face him.

 

"He knows the value of our children, Antonin. He will not likely request anything from her that will bring her harm." Darius said carefully. It was true that their Lord had been eerily calm as of late, but none of his Death Eaters truly trusted his changed demeanor. There was something different about him since his resurrection. Something more patient and grounded. More terrifying if he was honest. It was more like the stories of the Dark Lord that his father had shared with him, before he'd grown erratic and unhinged.

 

"When will you bring her here?" he asked.

 

"The end of the week most likely. Narcissa insists on keeping her there until she's certain her magic has replenished and she's finished getting her an appropriate wardrobe," Darius said. "She's safe Antonin, that's the important thing."

 

"I know." He sighed.

 

Darius got up and touched his shoulder. "Why don't you take a potion and try to get some sleep. You don't want to look like death when you finally get to see her again."

 

"You're right, I should do that." He nodded, finally relenting. He needed to be at his best if he was going to take care of her, and right now he wasn't even fit to take care of himself. It was pathetic.

 

"Come on, I'll grab you some dreamless sleep from my room." He needed it on occasion, but he could spare a vial for Antonin. He was in far greater need of it.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Narcissa had returned her wand the evening after her talk with Lucius in the Library, but given her strict instructions that she was to use as little magic as possible until she'd been cleared by the healer. Hermione had listened and on Saturday Naricssa informed her that the Healer, who had saved her life, would be there to check her over and make certain everything was healing as it should. She found it strange that Narcissa looked so nervous, and that no one was wanting to say the Healer's name.

 

Hermione was in the reading room pouring over a history text, when she heard the door open behind her. She looked up and froze. She didn't recognize the man standing there, but a shiver went down her spine and every instinct she had was screaming at her to run. He was about the same height as Lucius Malfoy, with short black hair styled neatly. There was the barest touch of grey at his temples, but he certainly didn't look old. The strange wizard was achingly handsome, but it was a cold beauty and there was something dark and cruel in the little smile he gave her.

 

"Lord Voldemort," she said quietly. He looked nothing like Harry had described, but somehow she just knew it was him. Suddenly, she realized she was looking him in the eye and dropped her gaze. STUPID. He was one of the most powerful Legilimens in the world.

 

He chuckled. "If I had wanted to invade your mind, Miss Dolohov…I've already had ample opportunity. Please, don't pretend to be demure. I much prefer honesty in my interactions." His voice was cultured, but held a certain amount of amusement.

 

Hermione swallowed and lifted her eyes back up.

 

"Now that's better. May I join you?" he asked and at her hesitant nod, he sat down across from her. "I'm pleased to see you've recovered so well. Despite my best efforts, I was concerned there would be lingering damage. I'm relieved to see that those worries were baseless. How do you feel?" he asked.

 

"I feel much better, thank you," she said and swallowed thickly. "You healed me?" She sounded somewhat dubious. What did a murderous Dark Lord know about healing?

 

"I'm better versed in healing than you'd imagine." He grinned almost predatorily as he answered her unspoken question. "You see, Hermione, in order to create your own curses, you must have an intimate understanding of anatomy. Those that can wield death and pain like an art form are often the most skilled at putting a body back together again. Be very grateful that Severus and I are so well versed in healing, or you'd likely be a permanent resident of St. Mungo's Spell damage ward…at best."

 

Hermione swallowed, and nodded. She owed her life to a wizard who had likely murdered countless people, and ordered the deaths of dozens of others. It was not a comfortable feeling. Her eyes widened as he drew his wand.

 

"Calm yourself child, I need to cast a diagnostic charm. I swear I mean you no harm." He frowned, looking surprised at her clear and sudden fear.

 

"Why don't you? I've fought against you," she said distrustfully.

 

"You simply reacted in the manner you were conditioned to." He waved his hand dismissively. "Your father is one of my most loyal followers, as his daughter you enjoy a certain level of immunity from my ire. Within reason, that is. Consider our past interactions absolved; you have a clean slate as far as I am concerned, young witch. Now, may I cast the diagnostic charm?" he asked.

 

"You may." Hermione gave her permission, and tried not to visibly tense. She was feeling extremely off kilter as he cast the simple healer's charm and watched the results with an intense gaze.

 

"Good, there is only the faintest trace of the curse remaining in your magical signature…and it's unlikely that it will ever fade entirely. You can begin to use magic again, but if you feel fatigued you should cease whatever you are doing. It will take some weeks for you to return to your usual form." He said and cancelled the charm. "You will be leaving for your uncle's home tomorrow."

 

"That's good to know," she said quietly.

 

"Now, as for your father, I have forbidden him from attempting to see you until you are ready. I can understand how unsettling it is to discover the truth of who you are, better than you might realize. I do not often interfere in the family business of my followers, but this time I am choosing to make an exception. You have the potential to be very useful to me, so I will grant you this small favour of time. In return, I ask that you do not torture him needlessly. I assure you that he has castigated himself sufficiently." He chuckled a stood. "I should thank you as well, with the distraction of your abduction that night, we were able to retrieve the Prophecy. Enjoy the rest of your summer, Miss Dolohov." He walked closer and took her hand, kissing the back of it with a teasing smirk. He then strode out of the room.

 

Hermione felt sick to her stomach and fought the urge to scrub her hand against her robes. There was something about him that just made her skin crawl. She strode out of the reading room and fled up to her bedroom. While she was glad to be leaving this place, it was just so incredibly awkward being here with the Malfoys, she was even more apprehensive about what was waiting for her at her Uncle's house.

 

She threw herself back on the bed and just stared up at the ceiling. What was wrong with her? She had her wand back; she should be trying to get back to the Order and away from these people. Just thinking about the Order turned her stomach though. Molly and the Headmaster had known, and likely been involved in her kidnapping. They'd looked at her every single day and they'd KNOWN! She sat up and angrily wiped her tears away. How could they? She'd been doing some reading this week and the kind of glamour they had used on her could have serious side-effects if used on an infant. They'd risked making her a squib in order to hide her from her father. What kind of people did that to a baby, and worse thought it was justified? There was a knock at her door.

 

"Come in!" she called, sniffling a little.

 

Narcissa came in and frowned a little, seeing the tears. "Are you alright? Did he say something to upset you?" She crossed the room quickly, sitting down beside her. Cornflower blue eyes searched her face, hunting for any sign that something was amiss.

 

"No, he was…well terrifying, but polite. He says I'm fine, I just need some time to bring my magic back to normal." She wiped her eyes again.

 

"Then what's wrong?" she asked, tucking a bit of hair behind Hermione's ear. It was such a maternal gesture that it really unsettled Hermione.

 

"I was just thinking about everything. The glamour they used, it could have turned me into a squib. They thought I'd be better off without my magic, than knowing who my father was." she whispered.

 

"There is nothing anyone can say to make this better, or less horrifying. What was taken from you is irreplaceable. Don't ever forget what they did and don't let them try to convince you that it was justified. There is no excuse for their actions. Your Aunt Amelia would have taken you in a heartbeat, raised you and loved you, as would any other number of your extended family. Your great uncle Thomas Fawley was no Death Eater, and he'd have taken you as well. They stole your heritage and tried to pass you off as a muggle-born to validate their propaganda. Other than yourself, can you name a single muggle-born student at Hogwarts on your level of ability?" Narcissa raised her eyebrow.

 

Hermione frowned a little, trying to think of one.

 

"While some muggle-borns can be quite clever, very few of them have an innate command of magic, or any prodigious talent. Witches like Lily Evans are very rare. Doubtlessly, Dumbledore thought that you'd be a wonderful bit of proof to shove in everyone's faces, since both your parents were exceptional and there was little doubt you would be too." Narcissa sighed. "Forgive me, but you need to understand that he was just using you. I know the temptation will be to forgive them, but you can't."

 

"I won't," Hermione said firmly. "I've never been good at forgiveness." She admitted.

 

"I'll tell you a secret, not many witches are." Naricssa smiled. "Now, shall I show you the spell to curl your hair?" She set the unpleasant topic aside, as if they'd never discussed it.

 

"Please." She let Narcissa lead her into the bathroom and teach her the charm. When they were finished, she had her trademark curls back, though they were now silky smooth without a hint of frizziness. It was strange, but she supposed she'd get used to it.


	6. Facing Her Fears

o.o.O.o.o

 

Oxton was actually everything Theo had promised her it would be. The house was large, but felt well-lived in and the library was literally to die for. She imagined losing herself in the stacks for weeks before school started again, and couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about enjoying herself. Her bedroom overlooked the garden and had a little balcony, completely covered with rambling roses. The smell of them filled the room and she couldn’t deny that she liked it, very much actually.

 

Her uncle was giving her space, and just being a polite presence at meals. Currently, she and Theo were lounging on the patio reading their respective books. She’d been here for three days, and this already felt incredibly comfortable. She wondered if this would have been her life if she’d been raised by her Aunt and Uncle rather than sent to the Grangers. Would she had grown up with Draco Malfoy and the Greengrass sisters as friends? Would she have been in Slytherin, or perhaps Ravenclaw like her mother? The unknowns kept circling around in her head and she set her book aside with a sigh.

 

“What’s up?” Theo asked, sitting up and putting his own book down.

 

“Do you think I should meet with my father?” she asked him.

 

“I think there are a lot of questions that only he can answer for you,” Theo said. “You know father and I won’t let anything happen to you. We can be there when you meet him for the first time, if you’d feel better about it.”

 

Hermione pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms round them, resting her cheek on her knees. “I didn’t expect to like it here, or like sending time with you…I guess I just wonder if he’s really as horrible as I’m afraid he’ll be.”

 

“You can run things over in your head a millions time, but there’s only one way to find out for sure. You already know that, though.” Her cousin was very insightful, in an annoying way at time. It didn’t mean he wasn’t right though.

 

She took a deep breath and stood. “You’re right, and waiting won’t make it any easier.”

 

“Father will be in his study,” Theo said and picked up his book again.

 

Hermione headed inside, her stomach tying itself into knots. Her uncle’s study door was closed, so she knocked politely and waited.

 

“Come in,” he called.

 

Hermione opened the door and entered, trying to think about how to phrase this. He was sitting at the desk, but he set his papers aside.

 

“Hermione. Is there something I can do for you?”

 

“I think I’m ready to meet my father,” she said, approaching the desk and trying not to look as freaked out as she felt. She also wanted to see her parents and had a feeling that she’d need to go through Dolohov for that to happen.

 

“Sit down,” he suggested and motioned to the chair. “Jilly, tea please,” he called and in short order there was a tea service set out for them with some cookies. “I know that you’re worried about this, but I can promise you that he would never hurt you, Hermione.”

 

“Can you be there?” she asked, biting her bottom lip nervously. She tried very hard not to point out that he HAD hurt her, nearly killed her. The reality that she owed her life to the Dark Lord and Professor Snape was something else she tried to not think about too much either.

 

“Of course. I’ll have him come for dinner, if that’s alright with you. Then if you’re comfortable, after we eat the two of you can sit down and talk a little. If you’re not, then you and Theo can retreat to the Library and we can try again another day. There’s no rush here,” Darius said gently.

 

“I think that sounds good.” She said and sipped her tea, letting it calm her a bit.

 

“Everything will be fine, you’ll see.” He said kindly.

 

“But what if it’s not? What if I can’t…” She felt a bit of panic swim up at the thought of seeing him.

 

“Then we give it some more time,” Darius said simply. “He knows how hard this is for you, we all do.”

 

She nodded and took a steadying breath. “Thank you, and I’m sorry for interrupting you while you’re working.”

 

“You are never an interruption,” Darius said firmly. “How, try and enjoy the rest of your afternoon and don’t worry too much about tonight.”

 

Hermione nodded and stood. “I’ll try.” She was a Gryffindor; she could do this.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

That confidence failed her when her ‘father’ walked into the dining room. Her hand itched to pull her wand, and her heart was suddenly racing at a million beats per minute. For a moment, she remembered how he’d looked in the moment the curse had struck her, pure fury on his face, caught in darkness and shadow. She jumped a little as Theo covered her hand with his, squeezing it gently. With a shock she realized that she had drawn her wand without any conscious thought.

 

“Hermione, perhaps you should let me hold on to that for now,” Darius suggested cautiously.

 

“No Darius, she has every right to keep it,” Antonin shook his head and drew his own wand, carefully placing it on the table. “I will never raise a wand to you again. You have my word on that.” His intense grey eyes bored into her, flecks of dark blue and green catching the light from the chandelier.

 

Hermione nodded and closed her eyes a moment, trying to calm her panic and settle her mind. She slipped her wand back into her pocket and made herself sit back down at the table. Her heart was still beating too fast, but he hadn’t offered any violence, quite the opposite.

 

“Are you ok?” Theo asked quietly, leaning over to speak softly to her.

 

“I just need a minute,” she said, letting her heart slow back down as he sat on the far side of the table, his wand left well out of his reach. A light dinner was laid out for them, and Hermione distracted herself with serving herself from the platters that had been laid out. She didn’t take much, not sure she’d honestly be able to each much of anything…but it was something to take her attention away from the wizard sitting across the table.

 

“Hogwarts letters should be arriving soon,” Darius commented, breaking the tense silence.

 

“And OWL results,” Theo muttered, looking concerned. “Hermione missed her one exam though…”

 

“I’ve already spoken with the Ministry and an examiner will be coming on the 20th of August to administer her OWL here, due to extenuating circumstances,” Darius said. “I was planning to tell you tomorrow, as I’ve just had the letter.”

 

“That leaves me plenty of time to review.” She tried to shake off the feeling of something terrible about to happen, knowing that the tension wasn’t going to help anything.  

 

“How do you think you did on the exams you completed?” Dolohov asked.

 

“I’m very confident in most of them, though Defence has never been my best subject. I hope I did enough to get an O,” she said, frowning a little as she tried to remember everything that had happened during that exam. In light of the events that had transpired, it suddenly seemed less important.

 

“I look forward to hearing about it, once the letters arrive. I’m sure your uncle has already told you this, but if you would like advanced tutoring in any subject, we can certainly arrange that,” he offered carefully, clearly trying not to make her feel uneasy.

 

Hermione looked surprised. “Advanced tutors?”

 

“There are advantages to being the heiress to an old family.” His lips quirked a bit in amusement. “There is almost nothing you could ask for, that you cannot have.”

 

Hermione nodded quietly, meeting his eyes and trying to look past who he was and what had happened to see the man behind the Death Eater. There was a lot of sadness in his eyes, lingering behind the playful words. “Thank you, I’ll think about it.”

 

“Good,” he said and picked up his wine glass.

 

The atmosphere seemed to relax after that, and by the end of dinner the urge to hex or run had mostly dissipated from Hermione’s psyche, leaving her mostly just tired and a bit conflicted. She should hate him, Merlin knew she hated everything he stood for and had done in Voldemort’s name, but watching him try to awkwardly bridge the gulf between them…she just couldn’t.

 

“Hermione, would you be willing to speak with me a little after dinner?” Dolohov finally asked.

 

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment and then nodded. “We can speak.”

 

“I’ll leave my wand with you Darius,” he said and stood walking around the table and offering his hand to her.

 

Hermione swallowed and mentally summoned her courage as she reached out and took his hand, standing up. “Maybe we could talk in the Library?”

 

“Whatever you prefer.” He motioned for her to lead the way, releasing her hand.

 

Hermione took a steadying breath, and headed out of the dining room. She wanted nothing more than to just wake up and discover that all of this was some kind of horrible dream, but every morning when her eyes opened and she was in her bedroom here it just reaffirmed that this was, in fact, her life now. She opened the doors to the library and headed for her favourite spot, wanting its comfort right now.

 

“First, I wanted to give you this,” Dolohov said and pulled a letter out of his pocket. “It’s from your parents, and I’m sure that you’ve been eager for news of them. I can take you to visit them this weekend, if you’d like. I imagine there are many things you’d like to speak to them about.”

 

Hermione reached out and accepted the letter, feeling tears in her eyes at the sight of her mum’s handwriting on the outside. “Thank you.” She managed to say past the lump in her throat. “I would like to see them.”

 

“I have no wish to keep you from them, but I had to move them for their own safety. Once news of your true parentage was revealed, they were slotted for memory modification by the Ministry. Only legal guardians of a witch or wizard are permitted to know about the existence of our world, under the Statue of Secrecy. I didn’t want you to lose them that way,” he explained. “They are currently living in a safe house of mine, in Southern France. Once things settle down a bit, we may move them again so that they can live their lives as normally as possible.”

 

Hermione sat down on the sofa. “Are they ok?”

 

“They are worried about you, but they are unharmed,” he reassured her. “They had no idea about your past and from what I can tell, someone modified their memories to make them believe that you were indeed theirs. They love you very much, and I am glad that you had people to love and care for you.”

 

“You think it was Dumbledore,” Hermione whispered, her fingers stroking over the writing on the outside of the letter. Of course it was Dumbledore, it always came back to him.

 

“It is likely that he was involved.” Dolohov came and sat down in the chair across from her.

 

Hermione took a deep breath. “What do I even call you?” She finally settled on getting that out of the way.

 

“In public it would be best that you refer to me as father, but in private you may call me Antonin. I assume you’d prefer to be known by the name your adoptive parents gave you?” he asked.

 

“I…it’s the only name I know,” she said quietly.

 

“It’s fine. I may slip from time to time, but if that is what you want, I’ll call you Hermione.” He swallowed. “I’m so sorry that you’re having to go through all of this, and for what I did to you. There is nothing I can say that would excuse it, but if you’d let me I would like to try and explain it.”

 

“You can try.”

 

“Azkaban is not a place I’d ever want you to experience the truth of. Things happen there that can change a man’s mind, rob him of his senses and control. The Aurors that rotate through there often are not the most sterling members of that profession. One of them very much liked to exercise his authority over us, but he’d always silence us first. When you hit me with that spell…I just reacted, I didn’t even have time to process who you were, or the fact that you were just a girl. I regretted it the moment the curse left my wand, and even more once I realized who you were to me. After the Dark Lord took you from my arms, I was not allowed to see you again until now.” He took a shuddering breath and tipped his head back, clearly trying to hold onto his control.

 

“I wasn’t ready, I don’t even know if I really am now, but I needed to do this. I wanted to see if you were really the monster I’d convinced myself you were, or if there was something more,” Hermione said quietly. She could almost feel his guilt and pain like a tangible thing in the room. She wasn’t sure that she could forgive him entirely, but there was a little part of herself that wanted to try. Whether she wanted it to be true or not, he was her biological father and there was something of him in her. Her past had been kept from her by people that thought they knew better, and maybe they did, but she had a right to know who he was and decide for herself if he was someone she wanted in her life or not.

 

“And now?” He opened his eyes and regarded her cautiously.

 

“You’re not a monster; that much I think I can tell,” she said.

 

“That’s a start, I suppose.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I won’t stay too much longer, but before I go…I need you to promise me that you will be careful around the Dark Lord. I worry that he has plans for you. Do not agree to anything he might ask of you, not without thinking very long and hard about it. I may be one of his Death Eaters, but you are my daughter and that means I would burn the world to ashes to protect you. Even from him.”

 

A shiver ran down Hermione’s spine and she believed with utter certainty that he would do just that. Maybe it was wrong to feel a strange wave of warmth flow through her at that statement, but she did. It was oddly comforting to know that someone was willing to do anything to protect her, no matter the cost.


	7. Avignon

o.o.O.o.o

 

Harry looked up as Professor Snape entered the library. He’d tried catching the man’s eye earlier, when he’d arrived for the Order Meeting, but hadn’t been entirely sure that Snape had really seen him. He put his book down and stood. It was strange, but without Hermione there to nag at him, he found himself reaching for books more often rather than less. It reminded him of her.

 

“You said that if I had questions, you would try and answer them for me,” Harry said, having been stewing ever since he’d read Hermione’s letter. Everyone around the house had been watching him nervously, unsure why he’d withdrawn from them so much.

 

“I will attempt to, Mr. Potter. We may not have a lot of time, so let’s try and be brief.” Snape said.

 

“Is she really safe with them?”

 

“Yes, Mr. Potter. I do believe that she is,” Severus said. “I have not seen her since she gave me the letter, but she is back in Britain and living with Theodore Nott and his father. From what I have been able to learn, she is recovered from the battle and just adjusting to her new life.”

 

“So it’s all true, that he’s really her father and that the Headmaster and the Weasleys were all involved?” Harry wanted him to say no, so badly. This had to be one of Voldemort’s tricks.

 

“He is her father, and while the Headmaster was directly involved, I believe only Molly was aware of what they’d done. Arthur and the children are blameless in this,” Severus said, some softness sneaking through his expression.

 

“If they’re behind that, what else are they hiding?” Harry felt tears stinging his eyes.

 

“That, I don’t know.” He took a deep breath. “Once you are back at school, come to my office and I will start filling in the blanks and share those things that I believe you deserve to know. Those conversations are too private to be had here,” Severus said after a moment.

 

“I’ll see you there.” Determination practically oozed out of his pores. He was going to get to the bottom of everything, once and for all.

 

“Your support for Hermione will mean a great deal amongst your fellow Gryffindors. This will be a very difficult year for all of you,” he warned.

 

“I’ll do what I can.” Harry said.

 

“Reach out to Mr. Longbottom, and your other dorm mates. Best to get ahead of things, rather than let the situation spiral out of control.” He gave him some advice. “Just do not advertise to anyone here that you’re doing it. They might not…understand.”

 

“She’s my best friend; I’ll do whatever I have to in order to protect her.” His jaw set stubbornly.

 

“See that you do, Mr. Potter.”

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Hermione staggered, nearly falling onto her ass as the portkey landed her in a grassy field. Only Dolohov’s hand on her elbow managed to keep her on her feet. Her stomach was churning violently and she squeezed her eyes tightly, trying not to be sick.

 

“Just breathe deeply and the sensation should pass. Long distance port keys can be hard on the body,” he said gently, releasing her once she seemed steady on her feet.

 

The urge to vomit passed and she opened her eyes, looking around. They were standing on the edge of a vast field of lavender, the smell of the blossoms filling the air. Far off in the distance was a village, but her father motioned to a narrow lane that led away from the village.

 

“Where exactly are we?” she asked.

 

“A little Southeast of Avignon,” he said. “My mother’s family were from this part of France, and I inherited this property from my Grandmother. It’s been secret kept for the better part of thirty years,” he explained, as they walked up the lane. He leaned over and whispered an address in her ear, and a beautiful old stone house appeared, shimmering into view. “It was built back in the late 1600’s, and I always thought if I needed somewhere to hide, it would be here.”

 

Hermione found herself smiling. “It’s beautiful.”

 

“One day it will be yours,” he said and walked forward, opening the wrought iron gate. “I thought you might like to spend the weekend here. I’ll remain so that I can return you to England after the visit, but the house is large enough that you and the Grangers can have some privacy.”

 

Hermione looked at him, seeing how careful he was trying to be. “Thank you, I…it means a lot to me that you’ve protected them.” She knew it would have been an easy thing to just stand aside and let the Ministry or the Headmaster obliviate them, to let the blame rest completely on them.

 

“They were good to you, I owe them a great debt for that,” he said simply, and started up the crushed stone path towards the house. He’d forgone the usual wizarding robes today, wearing a pair of worn black jeans and a dark blue t-shirt. He looked quite…ordinary.

 

Hermione followed, having been surprised when he’d appeared at her uncle’s Oxton home early that morning with a bag of muggle clothing for her and an invitation to go and visit her family. Inside had been jeans, runners, and casual wear. It had felt incredibly liberating to shed all the ‘prim and proper’ clothes that Narcissa had provided her with and just feel like herself again. The stones crunched under her feet as she took off running when the main door opened. Her parents were standing there, waiting for her.

 

“MUM! DAD!” she cried out and threw herself into their arms. They hugged her tight, and she couldn’t help the tears that started streaming down her face. She didn’t want to ever let go of them.

 

“It’s ok pumpkin, we’ve got you.” Her dad dropped a kiss on the top of her head and pulled back looking at her. “Are you ok?”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine…I’ve just been so worried about you.” She scrubbed away her tears, looking at them for any sign that they’d been mistreated.

 

“We’re ok sweetheart, really.” Her mum tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Let’s go inside and have some tea, mmm?”

 

“Ok, that sounds good.” Hermione sniffled a little, knowing she had to look a mess. She didn’t know how some girls were able to cry and still look pretty, her face got all splotchy, her nose ran, and her eyes got really puffy.

 

“Will you be joining us, Mr. Dolohov?” Mrs. Granger asked, an arm wrapped protectively around her daughter’s shoulders.

 

“No, I’ll be staying in the coach house if any of you need me. Enjoy your visit,” Antonin said, nodding to the Grangers before heading away from the main house.

 

Hermione turned her head to watch him walk away, but let her mother lead her inside. The hall was bright and airy, vases of lavender perfumed the air and light streamed in the windows. The timbers in the ceiling added character and Hermione found herself feel strangely comfortable here. There was a tea service sitting out for them, and she settled onto the sofa with her mother.

 

“Your biological father told us you’d been badly hurt, are you really ok?” Her mother asked again.

 

“I am, they had the best healers looking after me.” She hated lying to them, but some things were just better left unsaid. She’d been liberally editing her life ever since starting at Hogwarts. “What did he tell you?”

 

“That someone had modified our memories in order to hide you after your mother’s murder. He brought us here to protect us, in case anyone came to try and do that again. It’s been…strange, but he comes and checks on us and makes sure we have whatever we need. There’s this delightful little creature called Kimsy that sees to our meals and the housework, a house elf I believe he said.” Her mother fixed a cup of tea for them both.

 

“So, he hasn’t hurt you?” Hermione bit her bottom lip.

 

“No dear, of course not,” Mrs. Granger said. “We talked a lot about you. He wanted to know everything about your childhood. While it’s been a shock, I can’t imagine what he must have gone through for all those years.”

 

“You know he was in prison, right?” Hermione lifted her eyebrows.

 

“He did tell us,” Mr. Granger said. “He promised me that he would do everything he could to make sure that you weren’t impacted by his past. He asked our permission to get to know you, and I think that shows a good deal of respect.”

 

“I guess.” Hermione nodded and sipped her tea.

 

“Let’s just have a nice weekend, mmm? Try not to worry too much about it all. You have all the time in the world.” Hermione’s mother said, seeing the tension on her daughter’s face. “Everything will work itself out, in its own time.”

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Hermione spent the day with her parents and slowly, as Antonin stayed out of sight, she began to relax. She’d been reluctant to say goodnight, afraid that if she lost sight of them they’d disappear, but she made herself kiss them goodnight and head up to bed. Her bedroom was…luxurious, if she had to choose a word. The plaster walls were a deep red, the bedding done in Gryffindor crimson and gold. She couldn’t help the small smile that crossed her lips when she saw it. It was more something she could imagine Harry or Ron wanting than most girls. It was pretty cool though.

 

Exploring, she found all her things from her parent’s home had been placed here with care. Her muggle awards, pictures, and all her books. Every single thing of hers was placed here with care. There was only one thing she didn’t recognize, a single wizarding picture in a heavy silver frame. It was a beautiful woman cradling an infant in her arms, smiling and rocking her in a cozy little nursery. Hermione picked it up, recognizing the woman’s features as similar to her own. It was her mother. She traced her finger over the glass, feeling a sudden tightness in her throat. She carried the picture over to her bedside table, and settled it down there, right beside the picture of her and her parents at the beach when she’d been eight. Both of her families now represented, just with one missing piece.

 

Hermione ran a hand through her hair and walked over to her window, looking out towards the coach house. There was a light on and she wondered what he was doing, and what he was thinking about.

 

“Goodnight, Antonin,” she whispered to the glass before turning away to get ready for bed. It was hard trying to reconcile all the disparate pieces of her life, but maybe they could all co-exist together without needing to be actively at war. Just maybe.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

At her mother’s urging, Hermione headed outside to explore the gardens after breakfast. She was secretly glad for the excuse because it was beautiful out here. She followed the path that wound through carefully organized beds of flowers and perfectly trimmed hedges. Butterflies and song birds flitted through the air and she felt some of the heaviness of the past weeks lifting away from her shoulders. She couldn’t believe that one day this would all be hers. The future she’d been preparing for, no longer existed. Her entire future had been mapped out to overcome the bias against muggleborns, to make it impossible for them to deny her what she wanted. She didn’t need to do that anymore. She was one of the pureblood princesses that she’d been sneering at for years. The irony wasn’t lost on her.

 

“Good morning, Hermione. I hope you slept well.”

 

A voice startled her, and she turned to see Antonin sitting on a bench reading a book. She tried to compose herself and nodded.

 

“I did, thank you. My room is beautiful.” She had a feeling that he’d been the one to thank for it. Neither of her parents had ever been fond of bold colours.

 

“I had worried it would be a little too much.” He chuckled and marked his place in the thick book, setting it aside. “It’s a beautiful day; I thought I’d spend it out here getting caught up on my reading. I understand you’re quite the avid reader yourself.” He moved to one end of the bench and gestured for her to join him.

 

“I always have been, since I was small.” She walked over and settled down gingerly.

 

“What is your favourite book?” he asked, looking honestly interested.

 

“Hogwarts: A History.” She blushed darkly, knowing how it sounded. “I’ve read it hundreds of times.”  

 

“Your mother loved Midran’s Complete Herbology Copendium. She read it all the time.” He chuckled. “It was even funnier because she had a black thumb. I swear she could kill grass.”

 

Hermione couldn’t help it, she started laughing at the mental image. Dolohov was laughing too and she found it was actually a pleasant sound. He looked younger when he smiled.

 

“I can’t fly to save my life,” she admitted.

 

“It was never my best thing either,” he said.

 

“Would you….I mean, will you have dinner with all of us?” she asked, biting her bottom lip.

 

“I would love to. Have you been having a nice visit with your parents?” he asked.

 

“Yes. Thank you, for all of this.”

 

“You never need to thank me for this, they are part of your family too.” He met her eyes. “For muggles, they’re actually very nice people.”

 

“There are a lot of really nice muggles.” Her eyes narrowed.

 

“I’m sure there are, but I’ve never had much cause to know any.” He held up his hand. “There are very real reasons for keeping our worlds separate, Hermione. They vastly outnumber us, and if they were ever to learn about our existence, I think you know full well what would happen. They tried to eradicate us once, we’d be foolish to give them a second chance.”

 

Hermione wanted to argue, but she knew he wasn’t exactly wrong. Instead she just nodded sullenly.

 

“Your parents are a wonderful, rare exception. Not all muggles are so kind to their children when they start to prove that they’re different,” he said gently. “You have to understand that your upbringing is the exception, not the rule.”

 

Hermione thought instantly of Harry, and nodded quietly. Maybe she had been incredibly lucky.

 

“They helped you grow into an intelligent and capable young witch. Your mother would have been so very proud of you, as I am,” he said, voice catching a little.

 

“Even if I never support your Dark Lord?” She raised her eyebrows.

 

“I’m your father, all I want is for you to be safe. I don’t want you near either side of this ugly war, to be perfectly honest.” He raked a hand through his hair. “You’re nearly an adult in our world, so you’ll have to make your own choices. I just want you to be careful; promise me that you will.”

 

“I promise,” she said after a heartbeat. His indifference to her loyalties was…unexpected. In the end, given what Dumbledore and the Order had done, she didn’t think she could support them. It was equally as unlikely that she’d ever help Voldemort. She had no idea where that actually left her, other than caught in the middle.


End file.
